


Serving Notice - an 'Obligation' Story

by pollybywater



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Drama, M/M, crossovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 09:23:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/796586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pollybywater/pseuds/pollybywater
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Situations change and people have to change with them, as events unfold during Blair's last week in Cascade.  Crossover with The X-Files.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Serving Notice - an 'Obligation' Story

## Serving Notice - an 'Obligation' Story

by Akilah

Chris Carter, Bilsen and DeMeo, and a horde of corporate suits own them, not I. They make all the profits, but I have a much richer fantasy life.

I can't help myself. I adore Blair and Sasha's little universe, and felt there were holes to be filled. This might be easier to follow if you read the 'The Sequel of Obligation' first, but all you really need to know is, Alex (Sasha) is Blair's new sentinel, he and Blair have an empathic bond (and hot sex), and they'll be working with the resistance against alien colonization after they leave Cascade. Thanks, Ellen, for beta-ing and for being in love as I am with Sasha and Blair together. 

There are liberal references to canon in both series. A caveat to the X-fen: This story is necessarily Sentinel-centric, as it deals with Blair leaving Cascade. Also planned are stories that are more X-centric (heh) including one in which Sasha and Blair resolve Skinner's nanocyte problem once and for all. That story was, in fact, 2/3 done and died a tragic death in a hard drive failure. I just haven't had the will to restart it yet. So, to all writers, take my advice - BACK UP YOUR WORK! 

This story is a sequel to: The Sequel of Obligation 

* * *

"Anthropologically speaking, a relationship never terminates and Homo sapiens resist change." Blair to Jim in 'The Killers'. 

Monday. 

"Sandburg. I didn't think it would be this easy for you." 

Blair looked at Simon steadily, recognizing anger in the way that large fist had tightened upon his letter of resignation. He was angry, too, at Simon's assumption that he found leaving Cascade- resigning from the PD -a simple thing to do. 

In his heart, however, Blair knew how frighteningly simple leaving had become, once he'd been offered an alternative. Recognizing that fact and learning to live with it had been far from 'easy' but it was what it was. He had a new life with his new sentinel, and the two of them were meant to defend the world. 

Not that he could tell Simon that. 

"If you think any of this has ever been easy, you haven't been paying attention, Captain," he said in an even tone. The urge to say exactly how he felt was moving through him, and with a mental 'why not?' Blair started to let some chips fall... after all, Jim was in court this fine Monday afternoon for a parole hearing, so wouldn't hear. 

And hadn't he deliberately waited for Jim to be absent before discussing this with Simon? Simon had let him wait; a small conspiracy of two, intended to protect the third. 

"Do you have any idea how difficult it's been to teach Jim when he's never wanted his senses or me- how many times he's rejected my help and my guidance? Do you, even now, have any idea of what I gave up when I trashed my diss? I don't mean the money, or the fame- what hurt was sacrificing the _legacy_. Teaching future generations, providing a background and a context for sentinel studies that wasn't there when I started with Jim." 

"I hadn't thought about it that way, Sandburg," Simon replied, staring at him thoughtfully. "You're saying there will be more? More sentinels?" 

"Yeah, I think so." Blair shrugged. "What's done is done, and I don't regret what I did, Simon, that's not what I mean, but I've been given a unique opportunity to do something that only _I_ can do, where my presence really matters, and I deserve the chance." 

Simon sighed, unconsciously smoothing the letter in his hands before setting it on his desk. 

"Of course you deserve that, Blair. We all deserve that, but you _do_ matter- to Jim, to this department, and to me." 

"I know, Simon, but it's-" Blair looked down at the floor for a minute, then back up at Simon's somber face. "It's more than just the sentinel thing, although that's a large part of it. There's a spiritual aspect to all this that Jim wouldn't explore with me... and that's fine. That's his prerogative, just like it's always been yours, to ignore the mumbo-jumbo. But I can't, in good conscience, ignore it any longer." 

Feeling Simon's doubtful eyes on him, Blair stood up and paced towards the window, looking out over the cityscape. Innocent, vulnerable, and defenseless Cascade; its citizens unknowing of the real threat that was out there. 

_Up_ there. 

Maybe Simon needed a dose of mumbo-jumbo. Blair started to fill Simon in on a few of the things that the older man had never wanted to hear, more of a stream-of-consciousness ramble than anything; something Blair hadn't allowed himself to do around Simon for years. 

"Did Jim ever tell you that when Incacha died, he passed on the way of the shaman to me? I didn't want to accept it. I didn't believe. I even made a joke about it- Blair Sandburg, Shaman of the Great City -but that wasn't me. Couldn't be me. I was a scientist, although I know you and Jim never really appreciated that. I thought Incacha was in a desperate situation and wanted to assure himself that I'd take care of Jim... and I did try to take care of Jim, but soon after that, things between Jim and me started to... fall apart. He started to feel crowded- remember Clayton Falls? Then Alex Barnes came along, and what could have been an opportunity for us to _mend_ things... just... It didn't work out." 

"Jim's already told me as much, Sandburg- Blair. He said he fucked it up." 

"He didn't do it alone, Simon," Blair replied firmly. Simon had his doubts about that, personally, but kept his opinion to himself as Blair went on. 

"The thing is, all this time I thought Jim was the special one, the one with abilities, the one who saw visions... but I've seen visions, too. I've also learned that there are very few people who can do what I can, which is teach sentinels." And wasn't that the truth? When spirits and extraterrestrials sought _you_ out, you kind of had to accept that maybe you _were_ special after all... 

"Sasha makes me feel like I am the most important person in the world to him. I deserve that, too," Blair added after a momentary silence, his voice low. 

"You in love with him?" Simon asked, startling Blair into meeting his gaze. They shared that level regard for a long minute, Simon's dark eyes searching Blair's. Blair wondered what he saw, took a deep breath, and gave up another set of truths. 

"We aren't in love with each other yet, but I can see it coming. Look, Simon, you know- _you know_ -how I feel about Jim, and you also know that he's not- he's never going to be able to..." 

He shrugged again and looked away, unable to finish that sentence. 

"I know," Simon agreed quietly, coming to stand beside him. Simon put a hand on Blair's shoulder and squeezed gently. "I'm not blaming you, Blair. I just- it won't be the same around here without you, and this whole thing is so... sudden. And I'm worried about Jim's senses." 

Blair put up one hand and covered Simon's, but didn't look at his face. 

"I'll miss you, too, Simon. I will. I'm going to stay in touch, I promise, and you know, Jim doesn't need me for his senses. He hasn't for a very long time, really. He'll be fine." 

"He may not need you for his senses, Sandburg, but he still needs you as his friend." 

"I'm still his friend, Simon. And yours," Blair added, in case there was some doubt left in Simon's mind. 

Simon thought about how much Blair Sandburg had changed over the years, that inner light muted following the press conference; how the younger man had seemed to settle for going through the motions of living after moving out of the loft... and he thought about the bounce that was back in Sandburg's step since the new sentinel had come along. The glow that was back in those blue, blue eyes. The new sense of calm wisdom that was almost palpable, as if Sandburg had learned something that brought the rest of the world into focus for him. 

Simon could almost envy that. 

"Where are you going?" He had to ask. 

"I'm not sure," Blair admitted with a faint grin and motioned at the window. "Out there in the wide world, somewhere." 

"You'd _better_ stay in touch, Sandburg. Don't make me come looking for you." 

"No, I won't do that, Simon," Blair murmured, knowing that looking for him with Sasha would be a monumentally unsafe action for his friends. "Jim has the diss and Burton's monograph, and I'll leave a few other things with him before I go- stuff about drug interactions and sensitivities, and what to do if he zones. I don't think he will. He hasn't in years, but he'll have the info just in case. You should probably read it." 

Simon merely nodded, but couldn't keep from asking himself if things might have worked out differently had Jim Ellison, just once, let Blair Sandburg know how necessary the younger man had become to all of them. 

He let out a second, longer sigh and bowed to the inevitable. 

"You've still got a week of vacation time due you. If you'll work to the end of this week, that'll cover your notice." 

It was more than Blair had expected. 

"Simon, thank you for... everything. Working with you- you've taught me a lot, and I appreciate it." 

Simon fought the urge to rub at his forehead. Damn it. 

"Get out of here, Sandburg. Clock out and go home before I find a stakeout that needs your attendance. Poker night is at my place Thursday. Be there with your- sentinel." Simon managed a grin at the astonished pleasure in Blair's eyes. "I assume he can play poker?" 

"I don't know yet," Blair said, and favored him with brilliant smile. "Later, Simon!" 

Simon Banks watched his consultant bounce out of the bullpen and head towards the elevators, and wasn't a bit surprised when Jim Ellison stepped out of the break room and walked into his office, flopping into a chair with an unusual lack of grace. 

He'd had a feeling Jim was listening. 

"Court cancelled?" He wondered idly to Jim's nod. "You hear the whole conversation?" He asked next, and won himself an irritated glare that Simon shot right back. He could guess what was bothering Ellison most. 

"Jim, is he still your friend?" 

"Of course he is, Simon." 

"Then you'd better accept his choice of companion, whether you like it or not, and do your best to make sure _he_ knows you accept it." 

"Poker night," Jim realized; aware Simon was passing along a 'dad' lesson he'd recently had to learn where his own son was concerned. Getting up slowly, Jim moved towards the door, pausing to glance back at Simon. "Would it have hurt me so much to try, I wonder." 

Simon didn't pretend to misunderstand. 

"Can't help what you feel, or don't feel, Jim." 

"I could have felt it, if I'd let myself, Simon," Jim reluctantly confessed, staring into his friend's warm brown eyes. "But it's too late now," he added, wishing for one wild moment that Simon would argue with him, tell him to go after Blair, tell him he still had a chance if he'd just reach out and take it... 

"He's happy, Jim," Simon reminded him quietly. "Be his friend and don't mess that up for him." 

"Yeah," Jim sighed, then set his jaw. "I'm out of here," he said to Simon's wave, and left. 

Following Blair home was a conscious decision, and one Jim refused to second guess. He had to hear it for himself, monitor how Blair behaved with Sasha Christopher, how Christopher treated Blair, witness their interactions. 

He parked, unobserved, near Blair's building and focused his hearing. 

He had to know what it could have been like for Blair and _him_ , and he had to know if Blair was truly happy. 

He had to know. 

* * *

Blair trotted up the stairs to his apartment, and was almost to his door when it struck him. He was full of anticipation and excitement, anxious to be inside and share his day with someone who cared... and when was the last time he'd felt that way about coming home? 

The novelty gave him pause, and it certainly didn't wear off when Sasha opened the door and stuck his head out, those green eyes glittering. 

"You gonna stand in the hall all afternoon?" 

The rich aroma of tomato sauce rolled out to surround him. With a laugh, Blair entered his home, closed the door, hung up his jacket, and then walked into his lover's welcoming arms. Sasha's freshly showered body smelled better than the sauce, Blair thought, sniffing appreciatively. 

Blair relaxed for the first time all day. Sasha's hard-bodied warmth was pleasantly enervating even through the clothing Sasha was wearing, and it occurred to Blair he could cheerfully stand here indefinitely. 

"You cook, too?" He said, pretending to be shocked. Sasha growled into the side of his neck and nipped him sharply. "Ouch!" 

"I can cook a few things," Alex said absently, reveling in the touch, taste and scent of his shaman guide. His skin, which had been stinging off and on all day, immediately felt soothed and pain free, and the headache that had dogged him since Blair had left for work that morning was finally gone. 

Having such vivid proof of his own dependence on another person should have scared him, Alex supposed, _would_ have scared him had it been anybody but Blair Sandburg. There was just something so innately solid about the other man, though, that Alex could only accept the security he felt in Blair's presence. Anchored, tethered, supported; it was a sensation unlike anything Alex Krycek had ever known, and he was rapidly becoming addicted. 

For several minutes they merely stood and held each other, then Alex lifted his head and smiled at the visible, matching contentment on Blair's face. 

"It's not going to be done for another hour or so. You're early." 

"Simon let me leave early." Blair took a deep breath, imprinting his sentinel in his own way. "I could get used to this," he added, returning Sasha's bright smile as he motioned towards the stove. 

"Won't be like this all the time," Alex warned, sliding his palms down Blair's back and cupping that firm, ripe ass through Blair's trousers. "There'll be times when we'll have to eat MRE's, or miss meals altogether." 

"Hmm. Better enjoy this while it lasts, then." 

Reaching up, Blair drew Sasha's mouth to his, fingers sliding through silky dark hair. Sasha's lips covered his, parted, then allowed their tongues to meet and play; friendly humor quickly transmuting into dark and needy passion. The hands on his ass slid to his hips, pushing him back up against the door, then went to his ass again, tugging in a silent message of want. 

Alex moaned into Blair's mouth as Blair's arms went around his neck, giving tacit consent for Alex to lift his lover and pin him against the door. Their lips separated only long enough for Alex to hoist Blair into position, then they were feeding on each other once more, deep kisses that were pure foreplay. 

Now free to grind his erection into Blair's, Alex did so with abandon, catching Blair's moans in his mouth and answering with his own soft grunts... and God, he loved this. Loved the way those strong legs wrapped around his hips, making a cradle for him to hump against, loved the flex of that ass against his palms, loved the way that lush mouth just sucked him in and made him want to weep for more. Loved the taste of Blair, the smell, the dazed expression as those pupils blew wide with arousal and crowded out his favorite shade of blue. 

So good, but it suddenly wasn't enough, and he thrilled to Blair's gasp as he shifted his lover and spun them around, carrying Blair to the sofa. Distantly grateful that Blair wasn't particularly hung up on his own machismo, Alex lowered his precious burden to the cushions and let himself sink, trusting Blair to bear his weight. 

"Sasha, please," Blair whispered, feeling weak with hunger; a feeling that resonated through their bond as his hips rocked upwards involuntarily. 

"Da, solnyshko moyo," he heard Sasha's husky answer, nimble fingers making quick work of his clothes; his sentinel needing the touch of bare skin as much as he did. He was stripped within moments, Sasha scenting and tasting each newly bared inch, and driving Blair right out of his mind in the process. He held himself motionless as Sasha breathed over his groin, the light puffs of air making his cock leak and ache. 

"Sash," he hissed at the tiny catlicks his lover bestowed on his straining erection. God, he loved to watch Sasha soak him in like this, senses on full and focused on him... but he wanted more. 

"Sasha, suck me." 

Alex smiled and gave himself a mental pat on the back. That was the first time Blair had directly demanded a sexual favor, and he saw it as a personal triumph. In his opinion, Blair needed to be a little more selfish in order to successfully tolerate him; plus, Blair was so damn _good_ that it gave Alex something of a complex. 

And then there was the fact that Alex just plain liked to hear Blair tell him what to do. It turned him on. So, he happily complied, suckling the hot, silky flesh deep into his mouth, hands on Blair's hips restraining a hard jerk. 

"Oh, my God," Blair groaned out as Sasha's warm lips closed around him, that devil tongue rubbing firmly against the underside of his erection. "Oh, so good, Sasha." Sasha swallowed, throat closing around his cock; a pleasure that made Blair's eyes want to roll back in his skull. 

Sasha chose that moment to hum, and Blair Sandburg, who'd always prided himself on never being too quick to shoot, felt the vibrations thrum through his most sensitive flesh. He promptly lost his mind as well as his self control as his climax battered him senseless, crying out at the intense pleasure. 

Fingers gently fondling Blair's balls, Alex felt them draw up tight and heard Blair's wail, the cock in his mouth expanding then pulsing in rhythmic explosions. He pulled back just enough to catch the last bursts on his tongue, savoring the honey of Blair's come. He continued to suck, drawing it out for Blair as much as possible, until a weak hand gently pushed his head away. 

"Too good," his lover rasped, hand stroking his face. "Thank you. Now fuck me." 

"Oh, I like this dommy side, solnyshko moyo," Alex said with a smile. His words startled tired giggles out of his shaman guide that Alex was happy to share, well aware that their laughter was as great a gift as everything else that was between them. 

"Good. Take your clothes off," Blair shot back when his amusement subsided, some unexpected kink inside him darkly satisfied when Sasha moved to obey. Sasha methodically shed moccasins, tee shirt, and jeans, while Blair admired his sentinel's fine build. An impossible surge of renewed arousal caught him by surprise when Sasha's cock sprang free, blood-dark and anxious, arcing outward, seeking his touch. 

"Turn around," he ordered hoarsely, sucking in a gasp at the sight of those tight, round globes. "Beautiful." Scrabbling under the sofa cushion for a tube of the lube they'd taken to leaving in various locations around the small apartment, Blair sat up, set the lube aside, and laid his hands on Sasha's hips. He then leaned forward and lapped his tongue against the full swell of that fine-grained skin, hiding an evil grin when Sasha jumped and swore. 

"Oh, fuck!" 

"We're getting to that," Blair mumbled, his mouth tracing patterns over Sasha's butt. "Perfect ass," he added softly, his thumbs stroking the creases where thighs joined buttocks while he tasted some more. 

Alex bent over and braced himself on the coffee table, not sure if he was in heaven or hell. He'd had no idea that his ass was such an erogenous zone- no one had ever taken the time to worship it the way Blair was -and he kept his hands off his cock through sheer force of will, trying to steady his legs, instead. He was in serious danger of falling, his tactile sensitivity climbing higher with every sweet brush of Blair's mouth, tongue, and hands. 

"Split your focus, Aleksandr," Blair ordered, that low voice grounding him before he could completely zone on the exquisite feelings Blair was provoking. Rather distantly amused by his shaman's practical advice, Alex promised himself he would laugh later. Right now all he could do was wobble and gasp while Blair's breath puffed out against the skin of his ass. 

Then that wicked tongue teased along his cleft and lingered at his hole, killing him with lightning pleasure. Alex felt his knees buckle, hips caught up in Blair's strong hands. 

Blair smiled, manhandling the nearly insensible sentinel until Sasha was kneeling on the sofa, forehead resting on crossed arms over the backrest. Satisfied that Sasha wasn't going to end up on the floor, Blair went to his own knees and resumed his happy task, quite entranced by the way Sasha's small opening felt as it quivered against his tongue. 

Rimming was something he'd actually never done for any other lover, yet Blair frequently found himself doing it for Sasha, and enjoying every moment of it. Maybe it was the way Sasha trembled and the noises he made- Sasha was ordinarily very tightly controlled, but when Blair's mouth was on him, Sasha came unglued, freely offering his responses. Blair loved having that sense of control, true; but it was more than that. He prized the gift that Sasha gave him by surrendering those emotional barriers. It satisfied something deeper than lust in Blair; rewarded his spirit, made him feel strong and confident and empowered. 

And those feelings were still a miraculous novelty to Blair. 

He teased the quivering furl of flesh with the tip of his tongue, delighting in the very different texture of the skin there, and sighed with happiness when Sasha squeaked and jerked against him then started pleading in babbling Russian. Long accustomed to multi-tasking, Blair used the lube and prepared himself as he gentled his touch a bit. 

He didn't want Sasha to lose control. Yet. 

Alex heard himself talking, and couldn't shut up, unable to do anything but shiver and beg for Blair to fuck him, let him come... then that wicked mouth moved away, and a strong hand petted to soothe. 

"Yeah, baby, bring it back down some, and turn around." 

Alex blinked at the 'baby' and took half a second to remind himself that he wasn't hung up on his own machismo either, before doing what he was told. Making a conscious effort to lower his tactile sensitivity, he turned and sat. The feel of the soft afghan Blair kept thrown over the sofa made him gasp, but the sight of his lover's shining eyes forced the air out in a low moan. 

"Pazhaluysta, Blair-" 

Blair lubed him gingerly, not testing his uncertain control. Alex braced his cock without being told and was rewarded with a bright smile. Their eyes held as Blair moved over him, slowly lowering to take Alex inside. Alex fought against the urge to simply grab Blair's hips and yank down as that slick, tight heat gradually engulfed his aching flesh. 

"Radost' moyo," Blair whispered as they joined completely; as he relaxed into Sasha's careful, tender hands, as their mouths met in a particularly sweet kiss. 'My joy', he'd named Sasha, and it was true. Sasha had brought joy back into his life when he'd seen no hope of joy at all... when he hadn't even fully realized that's what was missing from his life. Pure joy. As their lips parted, Blair found himself laughing, high with delight. 

Sasha smiled at him, clearly sharing his mood, green eyes sparkling with the same delight Blair was feeling. 

"Good?" 

"So good. Better than good." 

They started rocking together, Sasha's hands stroking Blair back to full arousal, their rhythm unhurried and sure. Blair's own hands were busily stroking Sasha's chest and arms, feeding his fingers with satin smooth skin. 

Alex breathed out on a long sigh, luxuriating in everything his senses were reporting... Blair's warm weight; comforting and strong, each hair on chest, legs, and belly teasing him with a tiny, individual caress. If he concentrated, he could feel the bump of Blair's prostate when his cock rubbed against it, feel it in the responsive shudders of his lover's body. Taste and scent intertwined; a salt-fragrant, needy musk filling nose and mouth that could zone him all by itself, if he let it. The sound of Blair's heart, constant and true, was a bottom note to their panting whimpers and gasps, companion to the faint squeaks and slide of slick skin. 

And none of it compared to the glorious gift of his vision. Blair's face, lost in pleasure, lush mouth slightly parted, color high, eyelids drooping over a passion-dark gaze. 

"Beautiful," Alex found himself murmuring. "Krasivy moyo." 

"Yours," Blair agreed easily, leaning in for another long kiss, then whispering against Alex's lips. "Your shaman, spirit bound..." 

"Always," Alex finished with him, a surge of raw, possessive lust shooting straight to his balls. "Always. Mine," he said, his own hips lunging upward as he grasped Blair's in a grip just this side of painful. 

"God, yes!" Blair cried out exultantly, his prostate being repeatedly drilled with sentinel precision. "Sasha, yes!" 

Cock untouched, Blair fell over the edge into climax with a long, low cry- something Alex echoed when he felt his lover spill, felt Blair's ass clamp down and spasm around his cock, milking out an orgasm that obliterated his consciousness in a synesthetic rush of sensation. 

Stuck together and still gasping, they calmed slowly, only to snicker breathily when they met each other's gaze. 

"You thought _I_ was being dommy, huh," Blair pointed out wryly, loving the laughter that lit Sasha's deep green eyes. 

"Eh, so we'll take turns." Alex shrugged, shamelessly snuggling his shaman guide closer. "Works both ways anyway." 

"I know," Blair agreed, tucking his face into the side of Sasha's neck and tasting his sentinel's sweat. "Mine." 

"Yours," Alex said complacently. 

It was pretty damned good to be him, which was not something Alex had ever believed before meeting Blair Sandburg. 

* * *

Parked outside, Jim Ellison rubbed his face with his hands, pretending to himself that they weren't trembling. He knew- he _knew_ -that he should be ashamed of himself for eavesdropping on Blair's life, but the only thing on which he could focus was his realization of just how badly he'd fucked up his own. 

Everything he'd ever wanted, passion, laughter, friendship, support, possession... even the love that Blair wasn't calling it _yet_ was wrapped up in the very bond he'd refused, too blind to see that he might find those emotions in the form of another man. 

No. Too afraid he might find those emotions in Blair, and too sure they would eventually, inevitably be lost... and now that he _had_ so obviously lost, Jim had to ask himself if it hurt any less for not having known that equally obvious joy first-hand. 

One thing was clear in his mind, having witnessed Blair's happiness. He was going to take Simon's advice, and not mess this up for his friend. 

By God, he'd _be_ Blair Sandburg's friend until they were parted by death. 

It was all he had left, and he wasn't going to lose that, too. 

* * *

Tuesday. 

Not even a typically rainy Cascade morning could dampen Blair's good mood- but walking into the bullpen and facing the sudden crowd of friends and coworkers who crowded around him bemoaning his resignation threatened to do it. He shot a glare towards his captain's office door, where Simon Banks and Jim Ellison stood smirking at him, and made vague attempts to answer the anxious questions with which he was being inundated. 

Within a fairly short period of time, however, Simon's not-so-dulcet tones were bellowing a reprieve. 

"Don't you people have enough work to do?" 

It was enough to scatter everyone but the heart of Major Crime. Joel, Rafe, Henri, and Rhonda remained; plainly not content to settle for the obfuscations Blair had offered everyone else. 

"Blair, where are you going?" 

"Do you have another job lined up?" 

"You met somebody on your vacation, didn't you?" 

"You look happy." This last from Joel, who was inspecting him with a frown, and Blair offered his friend a bright grin that went a long way towards lightening that worried expression. 

"I did meet somebody. We are going away together- we'll also be working together. And I _am_ happy, Joel. Thanks, you know, for caring," Blair explained awkwardly and earned himself a breath-stealing hug. 

"Of course, we care, Blair, but it's- it's awfully sudden, don't you think?" 

Before Blair could decide what to say to that, Jim walked up and lightly clasped his shoulder. 

"Come on, Sandburg, say bye to your fan club. We've got to chase down an informant in Chinatown." Blair had a bare moment to wave at Joel and the others, then Jim had him steered into the corridor. 

"Looked like you needed a rescue, Chief," Jim said mildly as they were on the elevator heading down. 

"Yeah, thanks," Blair said, rubbing his eyes and wondering what time warp he'd stepped into. This wasn't the Jim Ellison he'd worked with for the last two or three years. This was the Jim Ellison he'd known before Incacha's death; the Jim Ellison who patted him on the shoulder and teased him about having a fan club, the Jim Ellison who watched over him and fished him out of hot water whenever necessary. 

The Jim Ellison with whom he'd fallen helplessly in love. 

So, why was Jim acting so... Jim? 

Blair could only conclude it was out of relief. Relief that Blair was, at last, leaving. Relief from the burden of guilt he knew Jim still carried about the diss mess and his drowning, however undeserved that guilt was. Relief that Blair was moving on; was involved with another man- another sentinel -and was now emotionally and spiritually bound to someone else. 

Relief from the relentless pressure of being the center of Blair's world; not that Blair thought Jim had ever consciously realized that's what he'd been. 

Past tense. 

Those realizations hurt, but not as much as they would have hurt two weeks ago, and it was going to hurt a whole lot less as soon as he got home to Sasha, Blair decided honestly. 

And _if_ he were honest about it, he felt his own sense of relief, because he no longer had to batter himself against the stone walls of Jim Ellison. 

Jim could just be, and _he_ could just be, and it was all good. 

So he bounced on his toes and grinned at Jim, plucking the keys to Sasha's Lexus out of his pocket and dangling them cheerfully. 

"I'm driving!" 

Jim gave Blair a sideways look as he followed his partner off the elevator and into the parking garage, his eyes widening when Blair led them to a sleek silver IS 300. He settled himself in the passenger seat and managed to keep his mouth shut... at least until they'd pulled out onto the street, which Blair was watching with the extreme vigilance of the car-cautious. 

"Nice car." 

"Yeah, isn't it?" 

Jim's eyebrows drew down at Blair's noncommittal tone, and he couldn't resist. 

"This guy's got money?" 

"Enough," Blair said next, and Jim couldn't stand it. Warnings from the spirit world aside, he had to have answers to some questions. 

"Who's he work for? CIA, NSA, OSI, NID? Hell, the MIB?" 

Blair glanced over at him then, a faint smirk on his face. 

"Can't tell you. It's classified." 

Jim was torn between cursing and laughing out loud. He had to wonder how long Blair had been waiting to say that to him, and ruefully admitted that it was a pretty damned frustrating thing to hear. As he was trying to decide how to respond, Blair startled him by reaching over to punch him lightly in the shoulder. 

Jim couldn't remember the last time Blair had spontaneously, voluntarily touched him. 

"Look, Sandburg-" 

"No, you look, Jim." Blair pulled into a parking lot and turned off the car, then shifted about to regard him seriously. "I don't expect you to stop worrying about me. I know it's a habit-" 

"Habit!" 

Blair threw up a hand, and Jim bit back on the tirade he'd been about to launch, all the weight of his new resolution bearing down on him. How many times had he cut Blair off, shut Blair up, ignored or subtly belittled- or even _not_ so subtly -the things his friend had to say? His mind obligingly supplied the one memory that Jim wished he could forget- Blair trying to tell him about meeting Alex Barnes. He took a deep breath and tried to pin a 'listening' look on his face. 

"I know you think this is too sudden. I've already heard it. You probably think I don't know what I'm getting into... and you could be right about that... but I do know Sasha, and I know what his work involves." 

And I'm not telling you. Blair didn't say it, but Jim heard it anyway, and wasn't satisfied. 

"Sentinel of earth," he prodded. 

Blair just shrugged. 

"You've known him less than a week." 

"And I knew you for what, three weeks, before I moved in? Jim, man," Blair faltered and looked away. "Sasha and I are connected to each other, and it's..." 

"Spiritual. Deep. What we could have had if I hadn't refused you at the hospital," Jim finished for him, drawing Blair's dumbfounded gaze. 

Blair opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again, closed it, then shook his head. 

"What, you're speechless now?" Jim asked, thinking that if he'd only known how liberating it was to actually say what he thought, he might have done so sooner. 

Since he was on a roll, he elected to continue, crossing his arms across his chest and inspecting Blair closely. For the first time, he admitted to himself that Blair was indeed beautiful, staring at him wide-eyed and unsure. 

"I never questioned my sexual orientation. It was just a fact of life that I grew up knowing. The sun comes up in the east, it rains in Cascade, and I like women. Team sports, the Army, the PD... none of those were environments where you wanted to be caught considering anything else. You've talked about how popular culture sexualizes and objectifies women- you have to understand that the opposite happens for-" 

Blair sighed heavily, interrupting his halting explanation. 

"Jim, where are you going with this? I know you're straight. You've always been straight. You will always _be_ straight. I accepted that a long time ago and I _never_ did anything to make you think-" 

"But that's just it! You never did anything to make me see you as-" 

"So, this is _my_ fault?" 

"Damn it, Sandburg, will you just shut up and listen?" 

Blair subsided, a closed-in, frozen expression on his face that made Jim's heart ache. 

"I'm trying to tell you I'm sorry I didn't see- that I couldn't- I'm _trying_ to tell you that I meant what I said on the phone the other day. I'm your friend. I will _always_ be your friend, and I don't want you to drop out of my life and vanish!" 

"Like everybody else does," Blair whispered, and Jim's breath caught in his throat as those four little words gut-punched him. Absolutely unable to speak, he nodded and held out his hand. Blair grabbed it in a rock solid grip, and they clung to each other for a long moment. 

"'I have been and ever shall be your friend'," Blair eventually quoted in a quiet voice, and Jim smiled. 

"You're such a geek, Sandburg," he said affectionately. 

"Yeah. But I mean it." 

"I know." 

They grinned at each other, and it was suddenly all right, all of it. Everything. Giving Jim's hand a final squeeze, Blair released it and started the car. 

"So where are we going, exactly?" 

* * *

"Shit! What happened to you?" Alex asked when Blair walked in just after noon, filthy and wet, accompanied by a deluge of scents that included egg drop soup, sweet and sour sauce, moo shu pork, black bean sauce, and several other less savory odors. 

Logging off of Blair's laptop, Alex got up and ducked into the bathroom, starting the shower without waiting for Blair's answer. He manfully resisted the urge to snicker as Blair followed him and started stripping; dropping what looked like lo mein noodles and rice on the floor along with articles of clothing. 

"Informant in Chinatown wanted to meet at the Hunan Cottage, which would have been fine except the guy he was going to finger showed up." 

"Uh oh." 

"Exactly. Big fight broke out and I ended up getting thrown across a table." 

Alex shucked his own clothes and carefully drew Blair into the shower, discovering as he washed his lover that some of the spots on that pale skin weren't food stains but developing bruises. There was also a long red welt across Blair's lower back; from the table edge, Alex assumed. 

"I'm gonna kick Jim Ellison's ass," he muttered to himself, not quietly enough. Blair sighed, and Alex winced, feeling the quick aggravation that moved through their bond. 

"Okay, fine, I'm _not_ going to kick his ass. This is what you do. I get that, or I would have known something was wrong earlier." 

"You think?" Blair asked, fascination overtaking his fading ire. 

Alex looked into that upturned face; blue eyes bright and as clear as the warm water sheeting over them both. Despite his own lingering anger about those bruises, one of which was a faint smudge decorating one high cheekbone, Alex had to smile. As much as it to hurt to know that Blair was probably going to collect a lot more bruises by being with him, his shaman guide's curious spirit was a pleasure to behold. He'd realized within moments of meeting Blair that Blair loved to teach, but what made Blair even more special to Alex was the way Blair loved to learn, embracing the new and unusual with enthusiasm. It kind of reminded him of Mulder, in a way... at least the way Mulder had been back when Alex and he were partnered together, before the Consortium's pressure tactics had ground down the FBI agent. 

"I know. You were upset at least five times this morning, but it didn't last long," Alex reported evenly, amused at the notion that he could be his own X-File with this psychic connection stuff and the enhanced senses. 

Wouldn't Mulder have flipped? 

"So, you're aware of my emotional state? All the time? Or do you have to tune in on it?" Blair asked excitedly, all the stress of his morning apparently forgotten. 

"I don't notice it much if I'm not paying attention, but it still reaches me." 

"That's so cool!" Blair exclaimed, allowing himself to be moved about as Alex washed and rinsed him free of lather. "We should do some-" the words were muffled as Alex kissed him, then turned off the water and began toweling him dry. 

"Tests, yeah, solnyshko moyo. But I'm guessing you have to go back to the PD?" 

"Yeah, gotta write up the reports and listen to Simon gripe about our 'willful disregard for proper police procedure, resulting in property damage, mayhem, and public disturbance'. Again," Blair grumbled, stroking one hand across Alex's ass as he moved towards the bedroom, where he started pulling on clean clothes. 

Alex followed and dressed as well, snickering at that long-suffering tone. 

"Jim will be by to pick me up in a few more minutes." Blair looked at Alex apologetically. "He's cleaning up the car." 

"Ah. Vengeance is served, after all," Alex quipped, and watched the faint clouds clear from his lover's beautiful eyes. Blair sat down on the edge of the bed to put on his socks and shoes; a rather worn pair of Nikes. 

Alex decided he'd go shopping before they left Cascade, then caught the sound of his car on the street. 

"Ellison is here." 

"Spasibo, Aleksandr," Blair said, and gave him a long hug. 

"You're welcome," Alex said back, and after stealing another sweet, not-too-short kiss, watched Blair walk out the door, his bounce only a little subdued. 

He walked over to the window and looked four stories down at Ellison, who was outside the car, moving from the driver side to the passenger side. As if feeling his gaze, Ellison looked up and met his eyes. Neither said anything, but Alex put his warning in a cold, hard stare, and Ellison nodded. 

Good enough. 

* * *

Wednesday. 

Alex spent what turned out to be the better part of an uneventful day shadowing Blair and Ellison as they conducted witness interviews in Chinatown. He justified his actions with the excuse that he needed to brush up on his surveillance skills now that he had to adjust to having enhanced senses. He actually had fun testing himself against Jim Ellison's own formidable talents. It was early afternoon before the older sentinel discovered his attention, and Alex took that as a success. 

"Sandburg, we're being watched," Jim informed his friend, squinting against the rare Cascade sunshine as he looked around. 

Blair just laughed. 

"Yeah, Sasha's been watching our backs all day, man." 

"You gotta be kidding me." 

"Nope. I knew he was there. I always know where he is." 

"What do you mean, you always _know_ where he is?" Ellison asked doubtfully. 

"I always know. It's part of our bond, I guess," Blair replied with a shrug. An amused Alex waved as Blair pointed in his direction. Ellison's pale blue eyes fixed on him where he stood in the middle of the fish market crowd, three hundred feet away. 

Alex inclined his head, prompting Ellison to shake his own before turning back towards Blair. 

"Are you telling me that if you and I- if I hadn't- if we'd-" 

"If you hadn't refused the bond we would have developed the same awareness of each other's location... at least, I assume so. It has to be some kind of survival mechanism. Even in primitive cultures no two people can be together twenty-four/seven, so it stands to reason there would need to be a way for each partner in a bonded pair to be able to find the other quickly," Blair's voice took on that faintly pedantic, dispassionate 'teaching' tone, his efforts to appear unmoved totally wasted on Alex, and, Alex suspected, on Jim Ellison as well. 

Sentinel hearing could easily detect an elevated heart rate, but Alex could also feel the pained regret that suddenly surged through his shaman guide. He slipped quickly through the crowd, moments later appearing at Blair's side, where he ignored Ellison in favor of inspecting Blair. 

"Are you okay?" He asked in Russian, winning a grateful smile from his lover and ignoring Ellison's chill regard. 

"Great job, Sasha. Any trouble?" 

"Nah, that piggybacking thing works like a charm, and I'm doing pretty well with filtering out the surrounding noises," Alex reported, playing along with Blair's little misdirection. Obviously, Blair didn't want Ellison to realize how much it still hurt to consider what had been lacking between them. 

"Don't the smells down here bother you? They do me," Ellison said, waving at the fish market and a nearby grocer, where an outdoor display of durian cast its own overpowering stench. Blair virtually gaped at the older sentinel for a moment before getting himself under control; something Alex noted with an inner shrug. 

"Sense memory. I override the smell by remembering something much more pleasant," he said, turning what he hoped was a suggestive smile on his shaman guide, admiring the sudden pink flush that rose to Blair's face. 

"That was Sasha's idea for handling strong odors," Blair informed Ellison rather defiantly. To Alex's great surprise, Ellison, who would meet anybody's definition of a tough guy, gave Blair an apologetic, almost sheepish grin. 

"He's easier to teach than I was, isn't he." It wasn't a question. "Why is that, Sandburg?" 

* * *

Jim was genuinely curious. He hadn't learned to piggyback one sense onto another until almost a year after he and Blair had met. Granted, Blair had been learning right along with him, and Sasha wasn't Blair's first sentinel- or even Blair's second, Jim realized painfully -but it seemed to him that Sasha Christopher was a lot farther along with controlling the senses than he'd been at that stage... then again, he really knew nothing about how long Christopher had been 'online', to borrow Blair's term. 

It wasn't until he saw the anger flare in Blair's eyes and heard the corresponding leap in his partner's heart rate that he realized his question had probably sounded like an accusation. 

"Blair-" 

"Why don't the two of you figure it out? I'm going back to the station to get started on writing up these reports. Sasha, I'll see you at home," Blair announced and started to stalk off, only to be brought up short by Christopher's hand landing lightly on his arm. 

"If not before, solnyshko moyo," Christopher said, a surprising degree of humor lightening those remarkable eyes. Jim was a bit taken aback when Blair paused to smile up at the younger sentinel, who rested his forehead against Blair's for a moment before releasing his hold. 

"If not before," Blair replied gently. "Jim." 

They both watched attentively as Blair hailed a cab and got safely inside, and Jim was willing to bet Christopher memorized the cab's number and zeroed in on the cabbie's license and face, verifying that they matched. 

Same as he had, just in case. 

He sighed, earning a sharp stare from those glittering green eyes. 

"I know you didn't mean that the way it sounded. So will he when he calms down a little," Christopher said quietly. 

"I really just wanted to know," Jim muttered before he caught himself and wondered why he was explaining anything to Sasha Christopher. 

Christopher pointed at a Starbucks a few blocks away, and when Jim nodded, started walking. Jim fell into step beside him, vaguely aware of the rather appreciative looks they were drawing from passersby, female _and_ male. 

"He doesn't make comparisons. Did you know that? He's never once said 'Jim can do this' or 'Jim can do that'. He's never even confirmed that you are a sentinel," Christopher informed him, and Jim bit back another sigh. 

"No, I don't suppose he would." 

They walked silently for a bit before a question occurred to Jim. 

"He said he always knows where you are. Is it the same for you?" 

"Yeah," Christopher hesitated, his step slowing. "As for your other question, if I'm easy to teach, it's because I want this. I want the senses and I want Blair." 

Jim shook his head. 

"How can you be so sure?" 

They came to a full stop, standing in front of a tea shop. An elderly Asian man stuck his head out the door and said something in musical Cantonese that sounded a lot like 'get lost you foreign devils'. Jim had heard that before. Christopher bowed at the man and answered in the same language, too quickly for Jim to follow, his tone polite. Whatever Christopher said, however, made the old man smile and bow in return before ducking back into his shop. 

Christopher gave Jim a sideways grin and resumed walking. 

"Spent some time in Hong Kong years ago." A few moments later, he cleared his throat and went on. "My last assignment ended badly. I was shot- thought I'd been killed, actually. I had nothing to lose, so anything would have been an improvement. Meeting Blair was a miracle, and since having the senses is what made that possible, to me they're a miracle, too." 

"Why are you telling me this?" Jim had been involved in enough covert operations to _know_ that Christopher was being uncharacteristically frank. 

"You're important to Blair," was the simple, unarguable reply. "And I want your perspective on having the senses. I get the impression they've been more of a burden for you than a blessing." 

"They've been hard to adjust to, yeah." Probably the biggest understatement of his life, Jim thought, thinking back over all the spikes, glitches, and sheer weirdness he'd suffered over the years... the worst of which, of course, the way he'd completely lost his mind when Alex Barnes had come to town. 

He had to wonder why he didn't have that same claustrophobic, skin-crawling sense of territorial infringement with Sasha Christopher. Because Christopher was connected to Blair, whom Jim loved like a brother? 

"Did Blair put you up to making nice with me?" He asked next. 

Christopher snorted inelegantly. 

"You're a paranoid bastard. Good thing I like that in a man." 

Jim felt his jaw drop, and Christopher started laughing. 

"Christ, your face! Relax, Ellison. I meant that in a purely platonic way. You're a good looking guy, but you're no Blair Sandburg." 

Jim winced as a hard blush prickled his face, but finally had to laugh at himself, too, right along with Christopher. 

They walked into Starbucks still snickering. 

"So Christopher, how are you handling sudden loud noises?" 

* * *

Blair supposed it wasn't essential that Sasha and Jim get along, but for some reason, it made him feel better about the whole situation with Jim. Despite the fact that Jim had long ago denied the potential bond between them, and the deep sense of connection he knew with Sasha, there was part of Blair that had guiltily worried about leaving Jim. 

Now, though, with Jim's demonstrated acceptance and that subsequent, startling return to treating him like a friend, he could relax, Blair thought. 

Undeterred by the familiar background roar of the bullpen, he'd typed up statements and 'felt' his sentinel's amusement; so that by the time Jim showed up to do his own paperwork, Blair was cheerfully finishing. 

Jim rolled his eyes when Blair announced plans for an early departure since Simon was tied up in the weekly Wednesday captains' meeting. 

"Simon's not going to be happy," Jim warned. 

"What's he gonna do, fire me?" Blair replied, and that was that. 

Sasha wasn't at the apartment, but Blair knew his curious sentinel was all right, so he decided it was Sasha's turn to come home to a hot meal, a cold beer, and a warm lover. 

Wanting to do something special, he elected to make spanakopita. While the initial preparations were a bit time consuming, once it was in the oven baking he had time for a shower. The water felt good on his bruises, especially his lower back, which still ached from yesterday's restaurant fight. 

He suspected he could prevail upon Sasha for a backrub tonight, though. 

Once dried and dressed- or half-dressed -in ratty, comfortable sweatpants, Blair settled himself cross-legged on the living room floor, picking a spot where the lowering sun shone bright and warm. Sliding into a meditative state was as simple as breathing, and he smiled, greatly pleased when the blue jungle materialized around him and Incacha appeared with his spirit wolf. 

"You are well with your student, Hoayna Qapaq," the shaman observed, settling himself in front of Blair and mirroring Blair's position. The wolf sat beside Blair and butted their heads together, making Blair chuckle. 

"Very well. Thank you, Incacha." 

"I am glad. Pachakotiq is quick to learn?" 

"Yeah, very quick." 

"That is good. Your skills are needed to protect all that there is. You must take Pachakotiq to the temple before many more turns of the world." 

"Won't that be too soon, Incacha?" 

"Not for Pachakotiq, not for you. Your bond will anchor you well, and I will be with you." 

"We'll leave this weekend, then," Blair said, more than a little troubled by the idea of returning to Sierra Verde. The temple of the sentinels didn't hold any good memories for him, and merely knowing that it needed to be done didn't make it any easier to do. 

"It will be well, my son. You will see." 

"Yes, Incacha," Blair agreed resignedly, and the shaman reached out and patted his face, that spectral touch warm and loving. 

"Even now, your sentinel awaits. Enjoy the peace of your days and the joy of your nights, Hoayna Qapaq." 

"Yes, Incacha," Blair repeated, smiling now in spite of his hot blush. 

The Chopec shaman smiled back at him, and the surrounding blue jungle dissolved into memory. Blair opened his eyes and saw Sasha, sitting across from him where Incacha had been in the vision. His sentinel, _his_ sentinel, was calmly and unobtrusively watching over him as he meditated. 

He was surprised by how comforted he felt. Protected. Supported. Treasured, that was the word. Sasha made him feel treasured. 

Blair swore to himself that he would never take that feeling for granted. 

"Hi, beautiful," Alex said as soon as he realized Blair was back with him. 

"Hi yourself," Blair said, smiling at him, those blue eyes impossibly bright and serene. "Enjoy your day?" 

"Yeah, I did. I handled every challenge I set myself today, including the most dreadful and rigorous atmosphere I could think of... I went to the mall." 

"Oh, wow." Blair sounded suitably impressed. "Why?" 

"Had some shopping to do." 

Alex rose easily and offered Blair a hand, admiring the way his shaman seemed to flow up from the floor. It would have taken a sentinel- an _alert_ sentinel who was paying attention -to notice that Blair was favoring sore muscles. 

No matter. He had plans to fix that later. Right now, all he wanted to do was take Blair in his arms and hold on tight. 

So he did, for a long while, and eventually Blair began to talk, explaining the vision and what it would mean. 

* * *

Blair was in heaven. Had to be, despite the fact that the concept of heaven had never played a large part in his personal cosmology. Nobody could feel this good and live, though. Sasha was rubbing him down with fragrant warm oil, which Blair had been casually informed contained the mixture Sasha had specified; a blend of arnica, white ginger, allspice, violets, and sweet birch... all things to soothe away the pain of bruised, sore muscles. 

Blair didn't know what staggered him the most- that Sasha had asked an herbalist to make it especially for him, that Sasha even knew what herbs to ask for, or that Sasha had been plotting this since yesterday, knowing Blair would be hurting today. 

Or rather, would have been hurting, because pain was the last thing he was feeling now. Sasha had stroked, petted, kneaded, and massaged his back from head to toe, helped Blair turn, and was now working on his upper chest and arms, banishing tension Blair hadn't even been aware of carrying. 

It was wonderful. His head lolled over to one side and he gazed at his sentinel from beneath droopy eyelids, offering a lazy smile. 

"You _are_ spoiling me." 

"Good. You've been spoiling me all week," Alex remarked, taking Blair's hand and gently smoothing oil along his fingers and wrist. 

"What do you mean?" 

"Making a home with me here, letting me see how it feels to live a normal life with a beautiful lover- who cooks," Alex smirked when Blair rolled his eyes. "You've given me a bed to sleep in, you smile when you see me, you give me a reason to laugh and you even laugh with me." 

"Oh, yeah, you're spoiled, all right," Blair said huskily, eyes gone tear-bright. 

"Yeah, and the best part is, I have these amazing senses to fill full of you," Alex murmured, admiring his lover's abandoned sprawl. 

The oil made Blair's skin glisten, illuminated by the light from the candles Alex had placed all around the bedroom. That same candlelight turned Blair's eyes swimmingly dark, picked out the flawless bone structure, and emphasized the lush pout of lips. Blair was so finely made, Alex thought, all smooth skin and lean, firm muscle, dusted with hair that drew the eye to the areas that demanded special attention... such as the erection that lay against Blair's lower belly, called to life at the touch of his hands. 

Absolutely gorgeous. 

Alex ran his hands up Blair's arms and carded downward through silky chest hair, pausing to brush his fingertips over Blair's nipples. 

"I noticed you used to wear a nipple ring. Is the hole still open?" 

"Yeah," Blair managed, nerves jumping with the fire he could see in his sentinel's eyes; feeling the hunger in his sentinel's soul... more than just arousal, although that emotion was vivid and strong. It was the need to drink in all that he was; and it was wholly intoxicating to a man who'd felt for years that he was barely being tolerated. 

"Good," Sasha said with obvious relief, and bent down to rummage in a sack he'd left at the side of the bed with strict orders for Blair not to peek. He drew out a small off-white velvet box and presented it to Blair a bit apprehensively. "You don't have to- if you don't like it..." 

"Shh. Let me see." 

Inside, resting on a cream colored satin bed, was a single silver ring bearing two beads, one a rich blue and the other a variegated, multi-hued green. 

"They're natural stone. Lapis and-" 

"Malachite, like your eyes. It's beautiful," Blair breathed, deeply touched by this tangible proof of his sentinel's regard for their bond. "Put it on me?" 

Bending to his task with particular care, Alex threaded the small ring through the tiny hole and secured it, smiling when Blair's hips rocked involuntarily to the stimulation. He sat back and admired the effects of his own whimsy, something inside him pridefully aware of having marked his shaman guide. 

"Do you know what else the stones mean?" He asked, fingers tugging gently at the ring and making Blair squirm. 

"Oh! Oh, God," Blair groaned, and tried to order his thoughts. A difficult task, given what Sasha's actions were doing to him. "Lapis is- it represents emotional healing and stability... cleanses the spirit to bring out inner truth." 

"And peace," Alex added softly. "And malachite?" He asked, bending to put his mouth over Blair's nipple, producing a full-body shiver when he tongued at the ring. 

"Protects... ah, Sasha, please... protects against psychic attack and... God, feels so... releases negative emotions!" Blair finished on a hiss when Sasha's hand closed around his cock. 

"Made for each other," he vaguely heard Sasha whisper against his acutely sensitive skin, then that strong hand was stroking him into a shattering climax. 

Thoroughly exhausted, Blair drifted into a sound sleep, something Alex observed with an indulgent smile and no little satisfaction. He tended the candles and then Blair, carefully cleaning and drying his lover's skin. Covering them both with a blanket, he spooned in behind Blair, huffing out a low laugh when Blair mumbled an unintelligible question and pushed ass-first against his unfulfilled erection. 

"Sleep now, solnyshko moyo. You can take care of me in the morning, da?" 

Blair made a sound that could have been yes in somebody's language, and Alex curled his arm across the sturdy chest and sighed, incredibly happy despite not having come. 

"Mine." 

* * *

Thursday. 

Alex woke with his cock in Blair's mouth, not altogether sure if he was actually awake or merely dreaming until a slick finger slid into his ass, rubbed over his prostate, and Blair swallowed around him. He wailed hoarsely as he came, the ecstatic rush leaving him blind and deaf until Blair's exquisitely tender kiss locked reality back into place around them. 

"Good morning," Blair said, smiling. Alex, who was quite aware he must be wearing an exceedingly goofy grin, had to agree. 

"Yeah. Good." He pulled together a few more shattered pieces of his consciousness. "You all right?" 

"I feel great. Thank you." 

"Good. That's... good." 

"That your word for the day?" 

"Mmm. You're dressed," Alex realized, frowning. He couldn't recall the last time he'd been so deeply asleep that he hadn't known when someone was moving around nearby. Had it been anybody but Blair, he would have been worried he was losing his edge. 

"Man, sentinel sight. Incredible." Blair kissed him again, and Alex moaned a little at the taste of himself on that agile tongue. "Gotta go to work. Do me a favor and see if you can find some boxes today. We need to start packing this place up and putting stuff in storage." 

"You don't have to do that. I can arrange to have the rent paid indefinitely." 

Blair bit his lip and gave Alex an uncertain look. Alex felt that sudden flare of doubt, and ran his fingertips along Blair's lower lip. 

"I'm just saying it would be nice to have a home waiting for us," he said reassuringly, and watched Blair's eyes clear. 

"Whatever you want, but home is going to be where you are, radost' moyo." 

"Oh," Alex said shakily, those simple words touching him deep inside where his own lingering doubts lived. "Good." 

"Yeah, it is," Blair declared, giving him an impossibly bright smile and one more lingering kiss before bouncing off the bed. "Gotta go, don't want to be late." 

"See you soon, Blair," Alex said in Russian. 

"As soon as possible, Aleksandr," Blair replied with a wink, and was gone. 

* * *

Aw, shit. 

Sasha Christopher was going to kill him, and Jim was going to stand there and let it happen... provided he and Blair got out of this alive. 

Stupid, stupid, stupid. 

He should have told Narcotics to go fuck themselves. Should have told Simon no. 'Reports of a meth lab down by the docks'. Well, hell, where else would it be. 'Narcotics has two guys out with the flu and six guys tied up on another bust, so I told them you and Sandburg would check it out'. 

Famous last words. Damn it. 

Blair had looked at him and said, "Jim, we're the only ship in the quadrant," and he'd been so happy to have Sandburg cracking Trekkie jokes he hadn't given Simon's request a second thought. 

Although he should have. After yesterday, he should have known he'd be tempting fate by taking Sandburg back out in the field... not that he could blame this mess on Blair. This was purely on him. 

Once they'd started poking around the huge warehouses down by the docks, it hadn't taken Jim long to pick up the unmistakable scent of cooking meth and pinpoint the correct building... which was the point at which he'd _really_ fucked up, perhaps terminally. 

He'd dialed down scent, because it stunk. He'd called Simon and reported what he'd found, but he hadn't waited for backup before going inside because he just wanted a 'quick look around, Sandburg'. He hadn't heard the warning creak of the rotten flooring because he'd been too focused on trying to hear what the perps were saying on the other side of the building. He hadn't had time to get himself and Blair to safety before the floor collapsed beneath them, stranding them fifteen feet down in a murky sub-basement filled with about four feet of cold, foul, standing sea water. 

Although, on reflection, Jim supposed he should be grateful for that water, since it had gone a long way towards softening the drop... and for once, Blair seemed to be uninjured, since he'd landed on Jim. 

That was the good news. 

The bad news- well, neither of them had a working cell phone now, Jim was reliably sure he'd torn his rotator cuff, either when he'd tried to break their fall or when Blair had fallen on top of him, he had a few gashes that were bleeding nicely, and there was no visible way to climb out of the hole they were in. 

Worst of all, the three meth-cookers had heard the crash and after standing around the edges of the hole making fun of him and Blair, they were busily planning how to burn the rest of the building down, once they had their product moved out. 

Which is what they were hurriedly doing now. 

Blair splashed water in his face and startled him badly. 

"'I take it the odds are against us and the situation is grim'?" Blair said mildly, and Jim splashed him back with the arm that didn't feel like it wanted to fall off. 

"Would you stop with the fucking Star Trek quotes already?" 

"Okay, definitely grim. But let me point out that you keep recognizing all those quotes, Jim, so I believe that makes you as big a geek as me." Blair pulled off his wet outer shirt and started tearing it into strips. "Where else are you bleeding?" He asked, carefully wrapping some of the material around Jim's right palm, which sported a long cut across the center. 

Jim chewed back a groan as Blair's actions stirred up the hornets' nest in his shoulder. 

"Dial it down, man, and answer the question." 

"My back, and my left thigh," Jim said irritably, doing what he'd been told. "But I don't see how you're going to get to them, and it's not going to matter in about ten minutes anyway." 

"Really." 

"Yeah, really, because we'll be parboil-" 

"No, we won't," Blair interrupted confidently. "Sasha's here." 

Jim focused his hearing outside, and breathed out a sigh of relief. 

"So are Simon, Joel, and half a dozen uniforms." 

"Oh, boy." 

* * *

"Christopher!" Simon hissed, trying to stop the man who'd somehow slipped through their perimeter and was about to enter the building through the side door that Simon had already decided was their own best bet. 

Alex turned around and virtually snarled. 

"Banks. What do you want?" 

"You can't go in there, this is police business!" 

"This is _my_ business. You can get the fuck out of my way or I can go through you, your choice." 

Simon looked at the man standing in front of him, a man absolutely unafraid, hard eyes filled with a cold resolve that chilled Simon's soul. A man undoubtedly as lethal as Jim Ellison ever thought about being, who was fully prepared to back words with action. 

Joel and one of the uniforms- Marchetti, Simon recalled -moved up to flank him, guns drawn, and Christopher smirked at them. 

"You'd better not miss." 

"Simon, who is this?" 

"He's-" 

"I'm Blair Sandburg's sentinel, and I'm going after what's mine. Now." 

Simon heard Marchetti gasp, and silently cursed, knowing this would be all over the station by the end of the shift. 

"Are they in trouble?" He asked to Christopher's abrupt nod. "Damn it. Come on. Joel, with me. Marchetti, make sure the other entrances are being covered." 

He and Joel watched silently as Sasha Christopher expertly picked the lock on the warehouse door. Following him inside, they concentrated on keeping their own steps quiet, exchanging a glance and a shrug when the younger man drew his own weapon and held it with confident skill. 

Christopher paused, and they both understood what it meant when his head tilted just a bit. Sentinel hearing. Christopher held up three fingers and pointed down the hallway then gestured rightward, and they started to creep past a small covey of offices. 

"Where are Jim and Blair?" Joel asked almost soundlessly, and Christopher pointed left. 

"Shouldn't we-" 

"We have to stop these assholes first. They're about to set fire to the building. Now shut up." 

"Sasha, babe, don't kill them. Too much paperwork," Alex heard his shaman say, and shook his head, guessing Blair had sensed his radically terminal feelings behind the term 'stop'. 

"Fine. Whatever." Killing was easier, but he'd do what Blair wanted. "You know, _we_ won't have any paperwork," he added softly, trusting that Jim Ellison would pass that along... and Ellison did just that, making Blair snicker appreciatively. 

Ignoring his anxious honor guard, he peered around a corner and caught sight of his prey; three stringy, jittery white guys who looked like they'd been sampling their merch pretty regularly. 

Alex really thought he ought to kill the two with mullets just on general principles. 

"Come on, dude, let's blow this joint," one said, inducing a round of tittery giggles. One picked up a beer bottle with a rag stuck in the end, a lighter in his other hand. Alex stepped out from behind his cover and shook his head. 

Any damned idiot who watched a little TV knew how to make a Molotov cocktail these days. Vyacheslav Mikhailovich would be appalled... or perhaps, not, since his name would never be forgotten. 

Alex sighed. These dumbasses hadn't even realized he was standing there yet. 

"You don't want to do that," he informed them coolly, and they reacted about as he expected. 

Skinny dumbass number one drew a gun so Alex shot him high in the shoulder and put him down, his gun skittering away along the floor. Skinny dumbass number two turned and ran for another door. The cops outside could take care of him, Alex decided. 

Skinny dumbass number three tried to light that rag. Alex took great delight in shooting the hand holding the lighter; glad he'd managed some target practice earlier in the week at a public shooting range. He'd always been a good shot, but sentinel sight made his aim supernatural. 

"Shit, dude! That fucking hurts!" 

"I can fix that. The next one will go between your eyes. Get down on your knees, set the bottle down gently, and put your hands behind your head." 

"Christ," Simon Banks breathed behind him, but Alex kept his attention on the dumbass, who proved to be smarter than he looked by doing precisely what he'd been told. The other guy- Joel? must be Joel Taggart, Blair had mentioned him -came around them to cuff one perp while Banks did the same with the other. Outside, Alex could hear the last guy being taken into custody. Remembering the reams of paperwork that had gone along with killing Augustus Cole while he was in the FBI, he supposed he could see Blair's point. 

"Better call in the fire department, a hazmat team and an ambulance. Ellison is bleeding," Alex threw over his shoulder as he headed for the other side of the cavernous room. Subconsciously gauging the strength of his footing, he found a place where he could look down inside the hole, happy to see his shaman guide in one wet piece and grinning up at him. 

Ellison was clearly hurting, which was the only reason Alex reconsidered his initial desire to say something harsh... well, that, and the brilliant relief he could feel in Blair at the sight of him, shadowed by worry for the older sentinel's condition. 

"I didn't kill anybody," he informed them good-naturedly, waiting until Ellison's pain-filled blue eyes focused on his face. "Yet," and he winked, surprised when Ellison smirked back at him. Blair winced. 

"Sasha-" 

"Kidding, baby. Gonna find a ladder before shishka gets here and starts yelling." 

Blair laughed under his breath, moving to keep pressure on the cut across Jim's back. 

"'Shishka'?" Jim wondered, resisting the impulse to snap at Blair. He really wanted to ask about that 'baby' but figured he'd save that for future teasing. 

"Big gun, big noise, VIP. He's talking about Simon," Blair explained, and Jim had to smile at that apt word. 

A few moments later, Joel's worried face appeared above them. 

"Jim? Blair? You all right?" 

"Fine, Joel." 

"We're _going_ to be fine as soon as we get out of here. Jim's probably going to need some stitches, though." 

"Yeah, the paramedics should be here by the time we get you out." 

"Be careful of that floor, Joel. We don't need you to join us," Blair added seriously. 

"Yeah, your... uh... sentinel told me where to stand. Jesus, Blair, where did you find this guy?" 

"He picked me up in an alley in Olympia," Blair heard Sasha announce shamelessly from behind Joel. 

"Oh, my God," Blair muttered, face getting hot. 

"He blushing?" Jim heard Christopher ask, too quietly for Taggart or Blair to hear. 

"Oh, yeah," Jim answered just as quietly, hugely amused. It occurred to him that he actually liked Sasha Christopher. The other sentinel seemed to have that 'distract Sandburg from obsessing' thing down to an art form. 

"Excuse me, sir," Christopher said, presumably to Taggart. "Heads up, gentlemen!" The end of an aluminum ladder was carefully guided into Blair's waiting hands and eventually braced underwater near their feet. 

"You gonna be able to climb okay?" Blair asked, worrying again. Jim gently cuffed that curly wet head with his good hand, careful to keep the other arm still. 

"I'm fine. You go ahead." 

"Not this time, mudozvon, you're bleeding. Come on up," Christopher said, and Blair started coughing, plainly strangling laughter. Jim gave his partner an exasperated glance and wondered when Blair had forgotten that he'd been around the Russian community often enough to become familiar with some of the more colorful phrases... and he was well aware that mudozvon meant 'the one who is talking shit', or more literally, 'the one who is chiming with his balls'. 

"Sandburg-" 

"Go, Jim," Blair wheezed, still trying desperately not to laugh in Jim's face. And Jim went, finally, climbing up the ladder one-handed. 

When Blair saw his partner handed off to Joel, he climbed up himself into Sasha's waiting arms; sure he would never find a way to thank the man for recognizing his need to be last out... one more demonstration of Sasha's obvious respect for him; one more facet of his sentinel's regard that Blair cherished. 

"You're wet, you stink, and you've ruined your new shoes, solnyshko moyo," Sasha complained, holding Blair close for a long moment, then pushing him back to inspect him. "But, you aren't hurt?" 

"Not even a scratch, and I don't know how that happened except that I landed on Jim and the water cushioned our fall." 

"I don't care how it happened, I'm just glad it did." 

"Me, too, Sandburg," Simon Banks announced, walking up and handing Alex a blanket that he wrapped around his lover's chilled body. Banks then gave Alex a long, level look. "That was damn good shooting, but I don't know how the hell I'm going to write it up. Tell me you've got a license to carry." 

Alex returned that long stare, then fished out a leather wallet and flipped it open, pointing out a laminated card on one side. 

"Senior Lieutenant O'ksandr Nikitin Khristof, FSB?" Simon read disbelievingly. 

"Anti-terrorist Department," Alex supplied helpfully. 

"Shit, you _are_ a Russian spy." 

"But I'm not spying for Russia, Captain Banks. Russia's and America's interests happen to coincide when it comes to... global anti-terrorism." 

"Full diplomatic immunity, I see." 

"And there's a concealed carry license in there, too," Alex added with a shrug. 

"And if I call the FSB and ask for your supervisor's reaction to one of his agents involving himself in an internal American police matter?" 

"Then you'll need a secure line. Ask for Deputy Director Colonel Ivan Sorokin. Speak to him and only to him, giving him the code phrase 'krasimir' and don't mention my name... and Director Sorokin will not be a happy man, sir." 

Simon snorted out a short laugh and returned the wallet to its owner. 

" _Now_ it's 'sir'? Don't worry about it, Christopher. Sandburg already said you weren't spying for Russia and I trust his judgment." Simon patted Blair's shoulder. "Go home and change, Sandburg, then get back to the station and take care of the reports. I'm gonna make sure Jim doesn't slug any paramedics. And Christopher, don't forget, it's poker night." 

Simon pulled out a cigar and lit it, giving the two men a sunny grin before strolling out. 

"Wow. He said he trusts my judgment," Blair said wonderingly, then shook himself and blinked at Sasha. "Is that legit?" He mouthed silently, indicating the ID Sasha had shown Simon. 

Alex waggled one hand back and forth. 

"Some of it," he mouthed back just as silently. "Come on, let's go check on Ellison then I'll drive you home," he added in a normal tone, and gave Blair a sideways look. "Uh, poker night?" 

Blair scratched his damp head. 

"Didn't I mention that?" 

* * *

"So. O'ksandr Khristof." 

"O'ksandr Nikitin Khristof was my mother's uncle. He was actually with the KGB before he was murdered by- well, it was Consortium related. Ivan Sorokin was his oldest friend, and would confirm my ID for a call like the one Banks was talking about making." 

"How many IDs do you have?" 

"Enough for both of us to be anybody we need to be at any given time." 

They were lying on the bed, Sasha in Blair's grateful arms, both of them freshly showered. Blair didn't want to go back to the station just yet; not until his jangled nerves settled a bit. He wasn't altogether sure what he'd be walking into, since Jim had relayed to him what Sasha had said to Simon, Joel, and Marchetti. 

"'I'm Blair Sandburg's sentinel, and I'm going after what's mine.'" 

Blair had been shocked, both by Sasha's blatant declaration and the resultant expression on Jim's face, because even in that dimly lit hole, he could see pain, regret, guilt, and... envy? 

"I didn't know you wanted to be out as a sentinel, too," he whispered. 

Sasha moved so he could search Blair's face. 

"Does it bother you, that I said you were mine in front of your friends?" 

Did it bother him? Blair thought about it for a minute, and decided that it didn't. Sasha made him feel possessed, but not like a possession; and it was mutual, which Sasha had also clearly stated. 

And there was something in him that didn't give a cold damn what Jim, Simon, or the entire Cascade PD thought about any of it. 

"No, I just- It's not what I'm used to," he finally said. 

Heat splintered like lightning in the depths of those malachite eyes, and Blair realized suddenly how utterly furious Sasha was deep inside, the emotion echoing like distant thunder. Not directed towards _him_ , but towards the people around him, the people Sasha felt had failed him. 

"There are things we'll have to hide when we're with the resistance... but not here, not now. You kept Ellison's secret, and I understand why you had to do it, just like I understand why he let you. Living in one place, being out on the streets daily and vulnerable to any criminal smart enough to set off a sensory spike... I get it, Blair. I do. But you don't have to keep secrets for _me_. These are your people. They should know who you are, what you do. They should know your worth." 

"Are you angry with Simon and Jim?" 

Alex sighed. Yeah, angry was one word for it, at every one who had ever let Blair down, failed to support and defend him, left him bereft, lonely, or scared. 

"I'm trying not to be... but part of me thinks they wronged you, solnyshko moyo. I won't apologize for that." 

"I never want you to apologize for how you feel." 

"That's good, because there's another part of me that believes they deserve to lose you." 

It was Blair's turn to sigh. He understood that, actually, since he felt the same way about the people in Sasha's past. Sasha certainly hadn't been treated well; something Blair gathered less from what Sasha said than the way he occasionally behaved, so delighted with the idea of a home and a 'normal' life. 

They really were a pair. 

He tightened his arms around Sasha, gently encouraging his sentinel to relax against him once more, pleased when he felt Sasha's tension ease. 

"We should get dressed and go," Sasha eventually said. Blair grinned. 

"You're going with me?" 

"I'm sticking like glue," said rather grimly, and all Blair could do was laugh. 

* * *

"That wasn't the ordeal I thought it would be," Alex admitted to Blair as they cuddled together late that night. 

And it was true; it hadn't been an ordeal at all. It had been surreal, fantastical, and largely outside anything he'd ever experienced in his life, but it hadn't been an ordeal. 

Alex had to confess that he'd had fun- _fun_ -most of the day, hanging out at the station that afternoon, meeting the rest of Blair's cop friends... and later, at Simon Banks' house, playing poker, drinking beer, and listening to the lame-ass jokes that invariably cropped up when a group of men got together. And he'd been shooting the shit right along with them, astonishingly enough, comparing stupid perps, best range scores, and favorite handguns. 

Crazy. 

He'd anticipated suspicious glances and outright resentment, but there'd been almost none. Instead, he'd been treated very well; politely, cheerfully, and with obvious consideration for his place in Blair's life. 

Which was about as bizarre as everything else that had happened since his resurrection, including the senses, the vision, and the bond that had formed between Blair and him. 

Blair lay half on top of Alex with his forehead snugged against Alex's neck, curly hair a soft tickle along Alex's jaw. Sometime during the previous week it had become their favored position for falling asleep. 

"They were friendlier than I expected," Alex added. 

"Happens when you save a cop's life," Blair said, husky voice a study in drowsy, matter-of-fact contentment. 

Alex supposed today's warehouse incident might be part of it, but he rather believed it had more to do with the man in his arms. Blair's coworkers plainly thought a lot of Blair; more, perhaps, than Blair realized, Alex decided. He'd overheard a few murmured comments on 'the old Blair' being back... an assessment that made him wonder just what Blair's life had been like before he'd been dropped into the middle of it. 

He knew Blair had been hurt. He'd seen that pain in Blair's eyes- recognized it, because it mirrored his own. 

He hadn't known _he_ had the power to make somebody's life better just by being in it, though. Another experience outside the norm for Alex Krycek the pariah, who so often dealt in lies, deceptions, and double-crosses. 

What a relief, to no longer be required to be that person. And what a blessing, to exist openly on the side of right, to associate with friendly people who didn't speak his name like a curse, and to have a lover sharing his nights. 

He would never take that for granted, he swore to himself, remembering the soulless wasteland his life had been before his death at Walter Skinner's hands. 

"Aleksandr, what did you have that last round? The one you folded on and let Jim win so we could come home?" Blair asked curiously, interrupting his thoughts. 

Alex grimaced. 

"Can't a guy have any secrets?" 

"Not from his shaman, now give." 

"Royal flush," Alex shrugged, enjoying Blair's squirming effort to adjust to his movements. 

"Why fold?" 

"Because I already won something much more important," Alex said, one hand under Blair's chin tipping his face up for a long kiss that left them both panting for breath. It didn't take a lot of urging to get Blair where Alex wanted him, stretched out full length on top, his weight seductive and warm. 

"Hmm, nice," Alex murmured, hands on Blair's lush ass leisurely rocking them together, desire building slowly. 

"Mmm, very," Blair agreed, perfectly willing to let Sasha do whatever he wanted. 

It occurred to Blair that he'd somehow developed a great deal of trust in his sentinel, and although he'd often been accused of trusting too easily and being too naive, he wasn't, really. How could he be? He'd learned as a child not to rely on anybody but himself, so he knew very well that his ability to trust was a conditional thing. A front, a facade, a pretext of belief in others, like magical thinking; if he hoped enough, wanted it badly enough, it would happen and he'd really feel it. 

For a long time, he'd tried to trust Jim Ellison, because Jim was the embodiment of so many of his dreams... but he realized now, given the absolute bond-supported confidence he had in Sasha, that he hadn't trusted Jim at all. Otherwise, he might have handled the entire dissertation crisis differently. He would have gone to Jim as soon as he found out what his mother had done. He would have believed that they could have worked it out together, fixed it themselves. But Jim had his own trust issues- Blair had known that from the beginning -and they'd had no faith, either of them. And of course, that lack of faith may have been justified, but he wondered now if a lack of faith brought about its own consequence, like a self-fulfilling prophecy. 

"You're thinking too loud, solnyshko moyo," Sasha whispered into his hair, and Blair smiled, more than relieved to be right where he was. 

"Then you're just going to have to help me turn off my brain," he teased, levering himself up on his elbows so he could look into those remarkable eyes. 

"I can do that," Sasha declared, long fingers raking tender furrows through his chest hair, first scratching lightly over his unadorned nipple, then tracing over the silver ring in the other. That gentle touch struck sparks along his nerves that ran straight to his cock, making him moan. 

"That more like it, beautiful?" Alex asked, watching his shaman's face change as he played with the tiny ring. That thoughtful, rather tense expression vanished, replaced by the one he loved best. Blair's lips parted on a sigh of pleasure, his eyelids grew heavy, and his pupils expanded dark and wide as his arousal grew, skin flushing pink over his entire body. Beautiful, yes. "Just like that," he said, winning that hazy focus. 

"Just like what, Sasha?" 

"Where I can see you... sit up, baby." Alex waited while Blair moved, then adjusted his position until their cocks were lined up and their balls rested together, Blair's heavy on his own. "Perfect." He groped under his pillow for the lube and squeezed out a generous amount, then took both cocks in his two hands, stroking them together from roots to tips... abruptly reminded of the wonder of having two hands with which to do it. 

"Oh, God, that's incredible," Blair said on a groan, his head falling to one side as he shivered. Unbidden, his own hands went to his chest, touching himself the way Alex had done earlier but tugging a little harder at his nipple ring. The sight ramped up Alex's own arousal instantly, and added to what he could feel with his skin and through their bond, it was almost too much. 

"Yeah, do it, Blair. That's so fucking hot." 

Blair favored him with a sly, lazy grin, one hand coming down to toy first with his navel, then with his chest, pinching his nipples one at a time until they were tingling and tautly erect. Alex barely kept his hips still, loosening his grip to draw the wonderful sensations out. 

"I think we need to get you pierced," Blair managed. Alex grinned back, then squeezed, gratified when Blair shuddered and moaned. 

"Had a nipple ring... in college... gave it up... for the FBI... academy. God!" He burst out as Blair gave a little shimmy above him, rubbing their tightening balls together. 

"Make us come, Aleksandr," Blair demanded throatily, that tone just going all over him. His slick hands fisted involuntarily on their needy flesh, pumping firmly. Blair gave a hoarse cry and shot all over him, body-hot spatters the last thing Alex needed to send him flying over the edge of bliss. 

* * *

"Well?" Simon said to Jim, who was sitting there wearing bruises, bandages, and a sling on his right arm... and a faintly shell-shocked expression behind those pale eyes that rather worried Simon. The game had come to an abrupt end once Sandburg and Christopher left, none of them knowing quite what to say when Jim turned over Christopher's folded hand of cards. 

There'd been a message in that, Simon thought, although he wasn't sure exactly what it was. 

"Well," Jim said, and snorted out a rather bitter laugh. "Well, what?" 

"Well, hell, I don't know," Simon sighed. "Joel?" 

"I didn't know how unhappy Blair was until I saw him happy again," Joel said slowly, thoughtfully. Simon pulled off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. Trust Joel to get right to the heart of the matter... but Joel had always paid attention to Blair, since the day Garrett Kincaid had tried to take over the station. 

"Is it true what Marchetti's saying?" Brown asked next, and Jim visibly flinched before setting that jaw. 

"He's a sentinel, too," Jim said a bit defiantly, and the men sitting around the table with him blinked their startled disbelief... not of Jim's indirect confirmation that _he_ was a sentinel- they _knew_ that, even if none of them ever discussed it openly -but that Jim would actually go so far as to allude to it. 

Surprisingly, it was Rafe who voiced the questions they all had. 

"How can you just _let_ Blair go off with this guy? Aren't you worried-" 

"Of course I'm worried," Jim interrupted harshly, rubbing his own forehead. "I can't believe I'm going to tell you this... but there are aspects to this sentinel thing that you don't know. Spiritual aspects, like being able to see the ghost of Molly Charles. I'm not saying I get messages from the great beyond, but..." 

"But you do, and you've gotten one about Christopher," Simon finished for him, taking pity on Jim's discomfort with the subject. 

Taggart, Brown, and Rafe all looked a little shell-shocked now, and Simon grinned internally with grim amusement. He didn't think his men had ever realized that Jim really _did_ see that ghost- they'd been too busy making fun and plotting pranks. 

"Something like that," Jim said, staring at the floor. 

"So you're okay with this?" Joel asked, and Jim looked up at him, jaw muscle jumping. 

"No, I'm- Yeah- Shit. _He's_ okay, the other sentinel, and he'll do whatever it takes to keep Sandburg okay. The rest of us will just have to adjust." 

"It's pretty obvious that he cares a lot for Blair," Joel probed gently, sherry eyes sharp enough to remind Simon there was a reason why Joel Taggart had been captain of the bomb squad before becoming a Major Crime detective. 

"Yeah, and Blair cares a lot for him," Jim noted with finality, and Joel sighed quietly, nodding to himself as if he'd had some silent question answered. 

Simon expected he and Joel would be spending time at some point down the road hashing it all out, but for now, Joel was apparently ready to let it go. Joel rose, the signal for which Brown and Rafe seemed to have been waiting, because they stood, said quick goodbyes, and left. 

"Jim, do you need a ride home?" Joel asked, hesitating at the door. 

"No, thanks. I'm staying here tonight so Simon can give me a lift in to the doctor's office." Jim offered Joel a thin smile. "I'll be there in time for the going away party, don't worry." 

"Good enough. Night, Jim, Simon." 

"Good night, Joel." 

Once the door had closed behind Joel, the silence lengthened and took on its own weight. Finally having enough, Simon got up, retrieved a bottle of Jack Daniels, and a couple of glasses, which he filled half full with the strong amber bourbon before sitting back down. 

"I don't think this will help," Jim said wryly, but he lifted his glass anyway and took a healthy sip. 

"Can't hurt," Simon remarked, and joined him. "Seems funny." 

"Funny how?" 

"Funny peculiar... not having Sandburg here, hovering over you while you're injured." 

"Simon, when was the last time you saw Sandburg act like that?" Jim asked, belting down the rest of his Jack like he was taking medicine. 

Simon turned his glass in his hands, staring at it thoughtfully. 

"Now that you mention it, I don't remember. Wait... Joel said he was on you like white on rice after Zeller shot you. Took you home from the hospital and practically sat on you until the day we offered him the badge." 

"And that was the last time," Jim confirmed, pouring himself a second drink that he knocked back the same way he'd done the first. "A year and a half ago when Ferguson pushed me down those stairs and I sprained my ankle, Blair wanted to go with me to the doctor and I jumped down his throat. Told him I was too old to need him to hold my hand and to back off and give me some space. I was a fucking asshole, Simon." Jim sighed heavily and looked up at Simon. "I brought this on myself, this whole thing." 

"That's not what Blair says." 

"He's being... charitable, I guess. Hell, I don't know." 

"I think I had my own part to play, Jim. I should have noticed-" 

"Noticed what? That I'd shut him out? That he wasn't happy?" Jim shook his head and poured a third, prompting Simon to move the bottle out of his reach. 

"You don't want to see an orthopedic surgeon with a hangover, trust me." 

"Maybe I'm punishing myself, like I've been punishing Blair for the last two years." 

"Jim?" 

"Yeah, I know, this isn't me. It _should_ have been me, Simon. It should have been," Jim said, setting the drink aside untouched and then standing. "I'm going to bed. See you in the morning." 

Later, lying sleepless in what was Daryl's bed when the younger Banks was at his dad's, Jim tried to think through the revelation that two quick shots of strong liquor had induced. He _had_ been punishing Blair; for the diss, for making him feel things he still refused to acknowledge, hell, just for being Blair. He was self-aware enough to realize that he'd resented Blair for becoming necessary to his life; resented the fact that Incacha had named Blair his shaman, resented Blair for helping Alex Barnes, resented Blair for dying, even. So, in fine Ellison tradition, he'd shoved Blair away, shoved hard and shoved permanently. 

It was a testament to Blair's determination that he hadn't left Cascade months ago. 

But maybe, just maybe, Blair was right, too, and Jim wasn't completely responsible for the way things had gone down. Blair had let himself be shoved away and hadn't shoved back, which was totally unlike the Blair Jim had known for the first two years they'd been friends. That Blair was pushy, unmovable, mouthy, and absolutely determined to do what he thought was the right thing. 

Jim wondered now how long would Blair have stayed and put up with his shit. How long would Blair have been miserable, carrying on with his life and hiding behind so many masks that Jim hadn't even recognized- hadn't _let_ himself recognize -how unhappy Blair truly was. 

And there was another aspect to this situation that he had to confront. If, and it was a honking big if, Jim had allowed the tiny stirrings of sexual interest he was only now admitting that he could have felt for Blair, how much more would he have hurt Blair by fighting it, fighting himself, fighting Blair? He did love Blair, that much was true. Under his own masks and fronts he always had... but they were better off as friends, he thought, because he doubted he could have ever given himself wholeheartedly the way Sasha Christopher seemed to have done. 

He was only human, though, and jealousy was a very human emotion. Still, now that he'd confronted it, maybe he could get past it. Especially since Blair didn't seem to harbor any more resentment towards him. 

Sleepy at last, Jim let himself drift off, and later he dreamed. 

Incacha patted the ground beside him, and Jim sat as ordered, sighing with pleasure as the jungle took form around them, blue and serene. His black jaguar spirit guide uncoiled next to him, a palpably warm presence. Jim was relieved to find that both the jag and Incacha seemed glad to see him, and he felt welcome. 

"You learn, Enqueri. This is a good thing." 

"I disappointed you." 

"You disappointed yourself," Incacha corrected firmly, and Jim nodded ruefully. Incacha never was one to beat around the bush. 

"Yeah, I guess I did." 

"What do you fear?" 

"Somebody here is always asking me that." 

"It's a good question," Incacha said equably, and Jim had to laugh. 

"I'm worried about Blair," he eventually admitted. 

"He and his sentinel face a difficult task, but together they hold much power." 

"Global anti-terrorism," Jim muttered, remembering what Simon had told him yesterday. To his surprise, Incacha snorted then grinned widely. 

"Even so." 

"What can I do to help?" 

"Be what you have sworn to be, Enqueri. Be a friend, and do not break your oath." 

"I won't," Jim promised, one hand idling over the jaguar's soft fur while he tried to think of a way to ask what he wanted to know- a way that wouldn't make him sound selfish. He finally decided that Incacha, in life, had seen him at his absolute worst; injured, weak, and crying over the graves of his lost men, not to mention fighting the senses that had awakened during his time in Peru. There wasn't much that would shock his Chopec friend... if a dead shaman could even be shocked. 

"Will I- will I be able to handle the senses without Blair in my life?" 

"Do you not handle them now? Enqueri, a sentinel controls himself, as any man must. Control does not lie in the hands of another." 

"But the bond between Blair and-" 

"The bond makes them more than they are, it does not diminish who and what they are." 

"It's not a... requirement... for a sentinel to have a... guide?" 

"It is a gift from the gods that both must choose with an open heart. Choice, too, is a gift, Enqueri." 

"'A sentinel will always be a sentinel if he chooses to be'," Jim quoted wryly. 

"So I have taught you," Incacha assured, and Jim felt the jungle fall away as he slid further into sleep. 

* * *

Friday. 

"This is for Daryl," Blair said, pushing an unsealed envelope into Simon's hands. "You can read it if you want. It just says that I'm sorry I didn't get a chance to say goodbye in person, along with a few other things." 

"Thanks, Sandburg. He's going to be sorry he missed you- missed this." Simon waved an all-inclusive hand at the detritus scattered about the big conference room, the one Major Crime almost never used unless they were involved in some kind of task force. It had been a perfect spot for an end-of-shift party; sufficiently out of the way to maintain an element of surprise, but near enough that Simon's people could come in and out from the bullpen as their time permitted. 

And the party had been a surprise. Simon knew he'd always remember the startled pleasure on Sandburg's face, particularly when detectives and uniforms from all over the station had wandered by to say their own goodbyes. Sandburg was going to be missed. Simon hoped like hell he knew that now. 

Swing shift was on duty now, many people having come in early just to attend the party that was now officially over. It was near the end of Simon's day, as well, and no one was left but Ellison, Sandburg, and him. Simon had half expected Sasha Christopher to be there. 

"Where's your sentinel?" Jim asked easily, apparently reading Simon's mind. 

"He's taking care of some stuff," Blair said with a grin. Sasha had followed him in and spent the morning wandering through downtown, in and out of nearby shops and on constant watch. Once Blair had made it clear he wasn't going out in the field today, Sasha had relented and gone back to the apartment to clean out the fridge and start packing a few things up... which made Blair glad he hadn't yet gotten around to telling Sasha about the Sunrise Patriots and their attempted takeover of the Cascade PD. 

"Oh, yeah, that reminds me," Blair added, pulling out a set of keys that he handed to Simon, along with a folded paper he fished from his wallet. "Give this to Daryl too, will ya?" 

"Sandburg, this is the title to your car." 

"Uh, yeah, I know that, Simon, and those are the keys," Blair said patiently. "Look, Daryl needs a new car, and I can't take the Dodge with me." 

"He's gonna shit," Simon warned with satisfaction, knowing just how thrilled his son was going to be. Sandburg had bought the vintage '75 Dodge Dart Sport on eBay, of all places, fully restored and in showroom condition, following the demise of his classic Volvo last year. Daryl had already announced his opinion that the Dodge was 'tight'. 

Blair shrugged, but his face was pink. 

"Do me a favor and take a picture." 

"I will. You better get the old man home," Simon said, pointing at Jim, who was visibly tired. Hesitating for only a moment, Simon wrapped Blair up in his arms for a hug that Blair happily returned. "Don't be a stranger," he muttered, and Blair gave him an extra squeeze before they both let go. 

"I won't. Thanks for everything, Simon." 

"You're welcome, Blair, but you've given more than you've taken. It's been a privilege to work with you." Simon had rarely meant the words more, touched by the sudden shine in Blair's eyes. 

Yeah, he should have said that a long time ago and made sure Sandburg believed it, he thought sadly, watching Ellison and Sandburg walk out of Major Crime together for the last time. 

* * *

"So. Surgery next week, huh," Blair said, breaking a silence that had grown uncomfortable as he pulled out of the parking garage in the Lexus. Jim gave him a sideways grimace. 

"Just an outpatient thing with a scope, under a local, and I've already made sure the surgeon knows all about my drug sensitivities. She said it could be treated non-surgically, but rehabbing the joint would take longer and I'd miss more work." 

Blair chewed on his bottom lip and steered carefully around a double-parked UPS truck. 

"Yeah, I did a little research on the 'net, and that's what I read, too." 

Jim relaxed, suddenly feeling better. Blair might be leaving, but he wasn't deserting Jim by doing it. Jim believed that now. 

Speaking of desertion... 

"What have you told Naomi?" 

"Nothing. I don't know where she is," Blair admitted with an effort at nonchalance that Jim knew was far from authentic. 

"What do you mean?" 

"What do you mean, what do I mean? I thought I was pretty clear. I don't know where Naomi is. I haven't talked to her recently," all said in a plainly defensive tone, and Jim frowned. 

"How recently?" 

"Jim-" 

" _How_ recently, Blair?" 

"Not since she left town right after she leaked the diss, man. You satisfied now?" 

"Shit, that's been-" 

"I know exactly how long it's been. I've had... maybe three emails from her since then, and that's it." Blair had to make a conscious decision to back off the accelerator and calm down, subliminally aware of Sasha's instant concern and trying to balance himself to relieve it. 

"I didn't know," Jim said, listening as Sandburg's heart rate gradually slowed with their speed. 

"Yeah, well, we haven't talked much either." 

"I know. I'm sorry." 

"You gotta stop apologizing, Jim. You're scaring me," Blair said as he made the turn onto Prospect. 

"Sometimes I scare myself, Sandburg," Jim shot back to Blair's amused laugh. 

They fell silent once more, but this time the quiet felt easy and warm. Blair pulled up in front of Jim's building, turned off the car, and reached for the door latch. 

"Wait," Jim said hastily, grabbing Blair's arm. "You coming up?" 

"Ah, no, I was just gonna get the door for you," Blair said, thinking rather bitterly that Jim obviously didn't want him back in the loft, not even long enough to say goodbye. 

"You're wrong." 

"What?" 

"Whatever thought just put that look on your face, you're wrong, Sandburg- Blair." Jim squeezed Blair's arm before removing his hand, mentally kicking himself for causing the flash of pain he'd seen in those blue eyes, and wondering how many times he hadn't seen it. "I just- I want your word that you'll keep in touch with me, and I want you to know that if you ever need me, you can call me. Any time, anywhere." 

"Jim, I don't know if-" 

"Damn it, Blair, don't argue with me! Incacha told me not to interfere. Fine. I'm not interfering, but I have to know you're okay! Phone, e-mail, postcards, shit, smoke signals, I don't care. I just want your promise." Jim realized he was yelling, and shut his mouth with a snap. Blair gaped at him, and Jim realized shouting at his friend probably wasn't the most diplomatic way to proceed. "Please," he added in a gentler tone. 

To Jim's relief, Blair ducked his head and started snickering. 

"Smoke signals, Jim?" 

"If that's what it takes," Jim said. Blair looked up and smiled, something Jim knew he'd never take for granted again. "Promise." 

"I promise I will keep in touch; probably by e-mail. Be sure and check the subject lines because you won't recognize the addy," Blair added to Jim's nod. 

"You're leaving tomorrow?" He asked next, having overheard Blair saying as much to Joel earlier. 

Blair sighed. Jim wasn't going to like hearing this, but he'd learned a new appreciation for honesty since he'd met Sasha and he wasn't going to obfuscate. 

"Sasha and I are going to Sierra Verde, to the temple." 

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" 

Shrugging, Blair spread his hands open with a resigned sigh. 

"Honestly, I don't know, but Incacha says we have to go." 

"Is he ready for..." 

"Sasha will be fine. I'm worried about me," Blair announced, tipping his head against the backrest and staring wearily up at the roof of the car. "Being there at the temple- it's not a place I ever wanted to see again, Jim." 

"I understand that," Jim said slowly, captive to his own memories of what had happened at that damned temple. Blair turned to look at him. 

"You're probably the only one who can," he agreed. "What Alex Barnes did to you there perverted what it was meant for, you know. Two pools, for a bonded pair. A sentinel and shaman pair, not two sentinels." 

"Then you and... Sasha will be fine. You'll put it right," Jim said, not entirely sure from where the words were coming, but rewarded when Blair's anxious expression cleared. 

"Yeah, I guess we will, at that." 

Before Jim could think of anything else to say, Blair was out of the car and coming around to his side, opening his door and offering him a hand to help him out- a hand that Jim was actually grateful to get, since he'd stiffened up considerably over the course of the day. Jim groaned as he stood and Blair started snickering, prompting Jim to aim a whap at the back of Blair's head that Blair easily dodged. 

Just like old times, each thought, but didn't say. 

"Coming up?" Jim asked again, and this time Blair smiled at him. 

"I don't think so. I said my goodbyes to the loft a long time ago." 

They stood there, looking at each other, neither ready to take that last step away. 

"Blair, can I-" To hell with asking, Jim decided recklessly, catching the back of Blair's neck in a left-handed grip that Blair didn't duck. He caught a glimpse of shocked blue eyes as he lowered his head and tasted his partner's mouth, deliberately replacing the sense memories of the only other time their lips had ever touched; cold slack skin and the sour tang of chlorine and algae finally disappearing under the sweet warmth of Blair's living presence. He let his tongue trace over that lush mouth, dipping inside to catch one last burst of essential Blair, before pulling away... wondering if this was how Adam and Eve had felt when they'd lost paradise. 

"Jim?" Blair was gaping at him again, blinking a surprised confusion that made his heart hurt. 

"I just wanted to know, Blair. I'm-" 

"If you say I'm sorry I'll have to hit you," Blair said a bit shakily. 

"Then I won't say it." 

Jim sighed with relief when Blair moved into his one-armed embrace. They gave each other a hard hug, Blair being careful not to jar his right arm or put pressure on the stitches in his lower back. 

"Blair," Jim whispered into that soft hair, imprinting the scent. 

"I love you too, my brother. I always will. Take care of yourself, and I'll be in touch," Blair said, then stepped back. Stepped away. 

Jim let Blair go. It was the one of the hardest things he'd ever had to do. 

* * *

Alex was outside waiting when Blair drove up, aware of his shaman's roiling emotions, so many and so turbulent that Alex couldn't get a handle on them all. He also felt the second Blair caught sight of him, that instant surge of joy and relief settling everything else, like oil poured over troubled waters. 

Blair was out of the car and into his arms before Alex had time to ask anything, apparently not caring that they were on the sidewalk. Didn't matter to Alex, he didn't give a damn who saw them anyway. 

"Kiss me!" Blair demanded, and Alex didn't have to be told twice. He yanked his shaman into a full body press, bent that curly head back over his arm, and took Blair's mouth hard; noting and then dismissing a superficial difference in taste. 

The kiss deepened, gut-punching them both with a surge of desire as tongues twined and sucked to mutual delight. Blair's hips bucked involuntarily, producing stereo moans when Alex felt a ready length push against the thigh he'd slid between Blair's legs. His own cock straining against his jeans, Alex settled for an answering rub, sharing his arousal and drawing a satisfied hum. 

Alex vaguely heard applause, whistles and a catcalled 'get a room' from somewhere, knowing Blair had heard too when a bright flare of amusement traveled through their bond. Parting their lips slowly, Alex took the time to lick away any trace of that 'other' flavor until it was gone, indulging himself in nips and sips of his shaman's wonderful mouth. 

"Thank you," Blair whispered, hands cradling his face. Alex smiled. 

"You don't need to thank me, solnyshko moyo, for doing something I love to do," he said, appreciating Blair's beautiful answering smile. They separated, then turned and walked- a bit gingerly -into the building, Alex's hand on Blair's shoulder. 

"So what happened?" Alex wondered curiously once they were inside the elevator, neither man particularly anxious to walk up the stairs in their current condition. 

"They had a big going away party for me at the station," Blair began, relating a few details as they left the elevator. Biding his time, Alex listened patiently until they'd entered the apartment, where he gave Blair a no-nonsense stare. He was taken aback when Blair blushed hotly. 

"I took Jim home. We talked. And then he... kissedmegoodbye." 

"He WHAT?" 

Blair watched Sasha's eyebrows climb to his hairline then drop into a ferocious frown, wrinkling the skin between his eyes; but more, he felt an instant flash of jealous anger that was quickly followed by a rush of fear. 

Jealousy he'd expected- Sasha was a passionate man -but the fear? It took him a moment to understand, then he had Sasha back in his arms before their next breath. 

"You won't lose me. It wasn't like that." Blair grabbed Sasha's hand and unceremoniously put it over his crotch, where his erection had begun to subside, groaning as it rapidly firmed up under that warm hand. "He didn't do that to me- _you_ do, Aleksandr. You, only you." 

Which was something Blair could hardly believe himself. Kissing Jim was something he'd longed for and dreamed about for years. It had been nice, tender, caring, even sweet- but it hadn't rocked his world, much to his surprise. Not like Sasha's kisses did. It hadn't turned his cock to stone or made his knees weak or clouded his mind with pleasure. 

Jim had shocked him enormously, true, and Blair rather suspected he must have looked like he'd been slapped with a dead fish, but he couldn't have helped that. He'd been so astonished... 

And now he felt free, like he'd dropped some invisible burden, chains snapped like Prometheus unbound. Sasha's hand closed on him, and Blair _knew_ that feeling, that need, that inability to do anything _but_ touch what was his. 

He let out a subvocal growl and dropped to his knees, hands opening Sasha's pants with dexterous speed, pulling them to mid-thigh. 

"You're mine, Aleksandr. I want what's mine, and no one else." And with that demand, Blair took Sasha whole, ignoring his sentinel's startled yelp. 

Sasha tasted so damned good. Blair had never understood why some people didn't like giving blow jobs. Having a strong man completely at his mercy made him feel like a god. Hands on Sasha's hips, he was in complete control of speed and depth, encouraging Sasha to use his mouth the way he liked best; just this side of rough. Blair let his tongue rub along the sensitive underside of Sasha's cock, guiding it down his throat and swallowing around it- shit, with Sasha's incoherent rambling as a soundtrack it was fucking incredible as well as fiercely arousing... and when Sasha stiffened and came, life pulsing into him, it was pure power. 

No longer able to stand, Sasha went to his knees, which was just where Blair wanted him anyway. 

"Blair- you- that was-" 

"Not over yet," Blair tersely informed his lover, grabbing the ever-present lube. He prepared Sasha quickly, loving the way Sasha eagerly pushed back against his fingers, then slicked himself and slid balls-deep without a word of warning. 

"Fuck yeah!" Alex cried out, abruptly full of Blair and loving the sensations- not just physically but the wildly possessive hunger his shaman was pumping into him through their bond. The feeling flowed into his mind and magnified his soul, making him beg for more with each hard thrust, especially when Blair started nailing his prostate. Even though Alex still trembled from the force of his earlier climax, he knew he was going to come again; soon and probably painfully. 

Strong hands moved over his body, urging him to kneel up. Blair, who'd been unusually quiet up until now, started talking to him. That husky tone went straight to Alex's tightening, aching balls, but the words went straight to his heart. 

"You are my sentinel now, Aleksandr. And you... are all... that I want!" 

Blair shuddered and came, sinking his teeth in Alex's shoulder, and the shock of pain was all Alex needed to push him into his own orgasm, cock untouched. The near-dry spasms made him wail, it hurt so good. 

They slid to the floor gasping, sweaty and exhausted. When Blair had slipped free of his body Alex turned to face his shaman guide. 

"I believe you," he said simply, and won that spectacular smile. 

* * *

Saturday. 

Jim started laughing, looking from the note in his hand to Sasha Christopher's IS 300. He'd found the car that morning, parked on the street in front of 852 Prospect, a big red satin bow tied to the driver side windshield wiper that had been securing the note. 

//Hey, Jim. Since Sasha and I can't take the Lexus with us either, we thought you should have it - don't tell Daryl <eg>. The keys and title are in your desk drawer at the station. Maybe if you quit picking the ladies up in that old truck you can get a second date! Heh! Keep an eye on your e-mail. I'll be in touch. B.// 

"One in a million, Sandburg." 

* * *

"Three and a half hours at LAX, huh?" 

"Fraid so, babe." 

Blair sighed, and Sasha elbowed him gently. 

"Guess what?" 

"What?" 

"The stewardess thinks you're a 'hottie'," Sasha reported, making quotation marks in the air with the hand that wasn't holding Blair's. 

Blair looked into those laughing green eyes and started snickering. 

"Oh, yeah? What did she say about you?" 

"Well, I don't want to brag." 

"Yeah, you do," Blair said, practically chortling now, and Alex congratulated himself for having successfully distracted his lover. He wasn't crazy about flying himself, although in his case it wasn't the heights that bothered him, it was not being in control. 

"When you're right, you're right, solnyshko moyo," he shrugged, moving so he could whisper in Blair's ear. "She thinks we're _both_ hotties, and she'd pay good money to watch us fuck." 

"Wow. She said that?" Blair turned his face the necessary few inches so he could swipe his tongue over Sasha's lower lip. "How do you feel about camcorders?" 

They smiled at each other in perfect understanding, content to live in the moment. 

Tomorrow, and Sierra Verde, would come soon enough. 

End  
23 March 04 

* * *

End Serving Notice - an 'Obligation' Story by Akilah: Akilah_du_kefirah@yahoo.com

Author and story notes above.

  
Disclaimer: _The Sentinel_ is owned etc. by Pet Fly, Inc. These pages and the stories on them are not meant to infringe on, nor are they endorsed by, Pet Fly, Inc. and Paramount. 


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